


Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

by SaturnandMarz



Category: The Evil Clergyman - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: A little bit of plot, Fat Fuck (issa joke), Fornication, Incubus Character, Mindfuck, Missionary Position, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, but its all consensual, slight Manipulation, you get railed by a priest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27815890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaturnandMarz/pseuds/SaturnandMarz
Summary: If I should die before I wakeI pray the Lord my soul to take
Relationships: Father Jonathan/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I see you have a priest kink as well my friend. Either that or you just really enjoyed seeing Jeffrey Combs as a priest for like 30 minutes. Either way I hope you enjoy.

_ Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day. For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. _

The snow falls violently down on the ground and piles into powdery dunes. You’d been wandering for what felt like hours on unfamiliar roads. Your car gave out a while back and your legs threaten to do the same. Time is not on your side in this unfortunate predicament. As you walk the sun sinks deeper and deeper behind the horizon, it’s reassuring light diminishing to blackness. In your forlorn endeavour to find shelter you press on against the forces. A large wind occasionally blows and the cold bites at your exposed skin. You contemplate turning back but you soon see that your travel was not in vain. The steeple of a church towers over the trees. You follow the cross to safety; like the Star of Bethlehem it guides you to the large wooden doors of the church. 

You make your way up the stairs, ruffling alabaster blankets of snow in your path. To your delight the door was left unlocked. After entering the church you gather what remains of your energy to push the heavy door shut. It must be hours after the last evening mass because the church is quiet and you are alone. To your convenience, some candles are still lit. You walk past the pews and stand in front of the many glims, their inviting flames burning brightly. Tonight these candle-lit prayers for souls long gone would serve as your source of warmth. You hold your frozen hands out and let the heat from the small fires lick away the ice. Your relief didn’t last long because you shortly after found that you were not alone.

“Mass doesn’t run this late,” calls a voice from behind you.

You gasp and turn to see the voice belongs to a priest. The white clerical collar around his neck contrasts with the rest of his black clothes. The candelabra he holds provides enough light to allow you to observe his delicate features. Oval eyes study your frame curiously. While you attempt to stammer out an excuse for your presence he walks towards you. The action is benign but for reasons unknown, adrenaline pumps throughout your body. Either you make a quick escape or you stand your ground. Too exhausted to run, your feet remain firmly planted in place. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude I just-” 

“You were lost.” he finishes the sentence for you. You nod. 

Up close he is a lot taller than expected; though his physique was somewhat boyish. His broad shoulders compliment his slim waist. A cross pendant hangs from his neck; a symbol of his faith. 

“Well not to worry. A church is the best place for lost things. Do you mind telling me where you came from?” 

You ignore his strange comment in favour of answering his question. You tell him about your travels to see a sick relative and about your car breaking down in the snow. As you speak he gives you this look of compassion which feels more like a mockery than real sympathy. Once you finish talking he looks to the side. Through the stained glass windows thick clumps of snowflakes are seen flying through the air. Seeing this he purses his lips and shakes his head.

“The snow is falling down pretty hard. It’s going to be difficult to get someone who can fix your car in this sort of weather. Why don’t you stay here for the night?” he asks. 

The church is a safe haven for many, but it wasn’t for you. Whether it be his sensuous voice or his near perfect facets, some characteristic of the man was unsettling. The words coming from those tantalizing lips are just too kind to be authentic. Still, you had no choice. The wind makes the church walls sigh and reminds you why you came in the first place. 

“That’s very thoughtful of you Father--”

“Jonathan. Just call me Jonathan.”

It was an odd request but you didn’t argue. By now all the snow that had previously collected on your clothing withered away. The melted snowflakes wet your coat down to the layers beneath it. When the priest notices this, he motions in the direction of a stairway. 

“Come. I’ll take you to my chambers,”

The words make your cheeks feel hot. This was all happening so fast. Most would say you were a fool for following a strange man up to his room. Even you agreed that it was unwise; yet your tired legs move on their own up the twisted stairs and down a dark hallway. The sway in Jonathan’s hips as he walks is bewitching. The slacks he wore did nothing to conceal what assets he possessed; and you thought modesty was a Christian teaching. Your footsteps echo in the quiet between the two of you. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence you speak. 

“You’re very kind to lend your room to someone you don’t know,” 

“A man of God is a stranger to none.” he says.

Perhaps he senses your worry about what his true intentions are, because the next thing out of his mouth was as such.

“And as a man of God my job is to  _ serve  _ as he so wishes. I hope you know I would never do anything unkind or senseless,”

It puts you at ease for the moment. Remembering that he was a _priest_ hushes any notion in your brain that something wicked would occur. At the end of the hallway is a door. Jonathan stops in his tracks and points you in the direction of his chambers. Looking around you saw no other doors, so you assume there is just one room. You wonder where Jonathan is going to sleep but he doesn’t explain. 

“I still have things to do around here. Get yourself out of that wet coat and get comfortable. If you need me just call.”

You nod and step closer to the room. With just a single shove the door creaks open. You glance back to thank Jonathan but find that the man was already gone. He and his candlelight disappear, leaving you in the darkness. You enter the room and look around. The priest didn’t seem to be one for worldly possessions. In the room was just a simple bed with an iron frame. A few candles and a bible sat on the wooden night stand. Tremendously outdated, but you didn’t come expecting a five star hotel. You kick off your boots and set your coat down on the chair in the corner of the room. Sleeping in your slightly damp clothes was less than ideal, but neither was being naked in a priest’s bed. You kept them on. 

You awkwardly slip under the covers, taking up as little space as possible. A part of you wishes to respect Jonathan’s area; you were in his bed after all. Although, you weren’t sure how your labour would help the situation. If the man offered you a place to sleep it was obvious he knew you would actually be sleeping. You pull the blanket over your shoulder. The linen smells of dust. You ponder if the priest ever slept in this room at all. At least the blankets were cozy. 

Within the room, the sound of the screeching wind remains at bay. Feelings of unease and anxiety from before slowly vanish. Soon your eyelids grow heavy. Considering the distance you’d travelled, you really need the rest. You fall unconscious. 

-

-

-

During the course of the night you wake to the faint sound of scratching. Unsure if dream or reality you ignore it until a hiss comes from the darkest corner of the room. Your heart jumps at the clamor and you sit up. The noise was awful and menacing like a Devil’s triad sounding in the middle of a lydian mode. Try as you might to piece together what it could possibly be, you simply aren’t able to formulate a conclusion. Then it comes again, this time louder. The cries of the damned echo out in the night. This prompts you to rise from the bed and bolt out the door in blind panic.

“Father Jonathan! Father John-” 

You bump into a sturdy figure. Upon closer inspection, your gaze falls upon the gentle eyes of the priest. It was a stroke of good luck that he was up late; although you did wonder why he refused to answer you when you called for him. Sound reverberated off the walls and carried in the night. He must have heard you.

“You’re frightened,” he points out calmly. 

Your cheeks flush despite the fact that he only stated the obvious. The difference between the two of you was embarrassing. He appears generally unmoved by the things in the church that terrified you so. Although, he was probably used to the sounds the church made in the night. You were not. Your heart beats against your ribcage like a bird attempting to break free of its enclosure. You make an attempt to steady your breathing before you speak.

“I heard something,” you say.

The priest hums in response, a smile creeping across his alluring face. Despite it appearing genuine you feel that it has a sinister aura. 

“Most likely just rats in the walls. This building is very old, you know. There are many untold stories held within this church ,” he pauses before adding “also, I told you it’s alright to call me Jonathan,”

To this you have no reply. The man spoke in riddles and it disturbs you more than it comforts you. When he talks you feel as if you are eavesdropping on parts of a conversation that you weren’t invited to be a part of. His words were like odd references to obscure films. 

“You’re still worried I presume,” he continues. “Why don’t you allow me to escort you back to the room. I could stay with you until you feel comfortable. Read to you.”

You swallow thickly. He steps closer to you with every word while you try to maintain a safe distance. Most would cringe at the implications of someone being alone with a priest in his chambers. You know the right answer would be to turn on your heels but Jonathan’s deep black eyes beckon you. He looks at you with an anticipatory expression. He was awaiting an answer. You did not want to let your indecisiveness be misconstrued for discourtesy. 

“I would like that,” you reply. You knew it was a half truth.

You both start down the corridor to Jonathan’s chambers. The way back seems longer than before, as if the path lengthened on its own while your back was turned. In the time that it took to reach the wooden door you come up with several different scenarios with how tonight could go wrong. A priest had to be the most nonthreatening profession in existence but this man reeks of malevolence. Malicious souls were often drawn to positions of power. 

Jonathan opens the door and the pale light of the moon shining in from the window hits his face beautifly. You realize then that it wasn’t Jonathan you are afraid of; you are afraid of what you want to do to him. The only malevolent spirit in the building was you. You view him from the eyes of a sinner. Analysing every move he made through a corrupted secular lens.

He drags a chair up to the bed and sits down, picking up the Bible from his bedside table. He gestures to the bed. His maneuvers are almost sensual in nature.

“Lay down. It’s alright, I’m not going to bite you,”

That mischievous glimmer in his eyes tells you otherwise. Against your own better judgement you settle into the bed. Too skeptical to fall asleep in his presence you just sit leaning against the headboard. You place a pillow behind you to make it more comfortable but you can still feel the cold iron pressing against your back. Your gaze shifts towards the man and you see his eyes are wandering. Or maybe you simply imagined that they were. Nevertheless, the thought of him surveying your body makes your cheeks burn.

“When I was a boy, my father would read me passages from the bible if I ever had a nightmare. He told me that if I filled my thoughts with prayer, that the Lord would grant me a pleasant night.” he says.

You listen to the anecdote, unable to relate. God was too busy to keep the snow from falling down on you, or your car from breaking down. You doubt that God was available to aid scared little boys through their night terrors.

“So I assume that God is the reason I became lost then? And God sent down the heaps of snow as well?” you ask. 

A dry chuckle escapes his lips. You don’t understand what the punchline is.

“People who don’t appreciate His ways are quick to blame Him for every hardship they may endure. All struggles are just a part of His much larger plan. You were a lost sheep and He guided you to safety. He led you to this church and into my chambers.”

There is a strange energy in the air. The tension between the two of you is so thick that you could feel it envelope you. Every sense is heightened. Jonathan’s features seem shaper. The faint smell of myrrh wafts off of him; you hadn’t noticed it before. 

“Now,” he says. His silky voice makes your hair stand on end. “I was going to offer to read you some psalms, however...I believe that you are the type that is comforted by... _ worldly activities _ ,”

The sentence makes you blush. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating,”

The priest grins. “You will.”

Without skipping a beat he begins to read to you. Though the words have meaning they are entirely lost on you. You hear them but you aren’t  _ listening  _ to them. All you can focus on is his voice. The airy melodies pull you into a trance and you can feel yourself shedding your prior inhibitions. He was an angel singing down to the lechers of the world. You sat within the licentious crowd, drinking up his song. 

You are dirty.

You are wrong.

You are filthy and perverted.

You come to the conclusion that you need to be saved. As he recites the passages of the bible you move closer to him, eyes locked on his lips. Jonathan is so close, a fruit hanging off the branch. Everyone knows the fruit tastes sweeter when it is forbidden. Hesitantly, you bring your hand down on his knee. It climbs up his leg and reaches his thigh before he roughly snatches your wrist. 

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

Suddenly you realize the weight of your actions. You don’t know exactly what possessed you to act in such a way but you knew it had to do with the  _ siren  _ in front of you. Your perception of his voice changes. Now that you’d been startled out of your haze you were aware of exactly what Jonathan was trying to do. Instead of his voice being the call of an angel it was the clattering of a rattlesnake tail. He was the one who tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden. But who would believe you if you told them the truth about this evil thing in your presence? You couldn’t call him an incubus, he was a clergyman. 

Now when he spoke it was gravelly and dark. 

“I don’t think you understand what it is you’re doing. How unholy it would be for you to touch me in that way. I give you my bed and you repay me by dirtying me with your sinful hand? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

You feel your heart sink. You question if he is really an incubus or if you are just a degenerate. It was difficult to tell. Those lips were too perfect to belong to a human. Jonathan let go of your hand, a smug expression on his beautiful face. Though his words indicate disgust his tone suggests something entirely different. That makes it even harder to know how to conduct yourself. He sets the bible back down on the night table and rises from the chair. You want to apologize for startling him but what he does next is completely unexpected.

“God may not forgive you. But I will if you do me a little favour,” he says.

“Anything,” you reply. This was your chance to redeem yourself. 

“I’ll forget that you sullied me with your unpermitted touch if you give me a kiss.” 

If that was all he wants then you would oblige. You go to him and lean in to kiss those soft, thin lips but he pushes you back and shakes his head. You stare at him utterly confused. What does he want?

“Not like that. On your knees,” he clarifies. 

Oh.

Slowly you drop down to your knees on the stone floor, watching as he undoes his belt buckle and unzips his slacks. Out of his dark clothing he pulls his flaccid cock. He tells you what his expectations are for this encounter. You are not to lay your hands on him or even make eye contact with him unless he gives you permission to do so. Only then would you be forgiven. After he outlines his rules you waste no time taking his prick into your mouth. You savour the bitter taste of salt and arousal. Jonathan hums and places his hand on your head. The gentle touch is an incentive to keep going. 

You lick the tip of his cock and watch as it springs to life. He’s fully hard in just a few moments. The way he acts gives you the impression that this wasn’t anywhere near being his first time. You take it into your mouth again and Jonathan hisses in pleasure.

“Very good. You’re so good at this. I take it that this is something that you’re used to,”

It didn’t matter if that statement was true or not. Right now you were a whore that needs to be cleansed with his absolving light. You would be on your knees saying prayers between his legs until he was satisfied. You slowly bob your head, tongue praising the cock in your mouth with generous laps. Impatiently he pushes your head down so that your nose hits his pelvis. His throbbing cock can be felt deep inside your mouth and soon your eyes are starting to water.

“That's right, that’s what I like to see,” he whispers huskily. “How does my cock feel in your mouth like that?” 

You aren’t able to reply with your mouth full, so instead you moan to portray your thorough enjoyment. You’re surprised at the priest’s use of such language; maybe the taboo was what made this so exciting. You’re aroused just from being on your knees. It is proof that you are as debauched as he said you were. This makes you want to catch him off guard and show him how talented you were with your mouth. 

Hollowing your cheeks you bob your head quickly. You take him as deep as you could before pulling back and swallowing him again. Your aim was to make him come. You want to taste him on your tongue, make him feel so much pleasure that he wouldn’t think twice about forgiving you. Alas, before you could taste his seed he pulls your head away. You weren’t allowed to look up to see his face but you could hear him panting heavily. He was still hard and hadn’t yet come. You were curious to see if that meant there was more in store for you.

“You’ve done such a good job. You may stand,” he says.

You do as you’re told. Your eyes remain glued to the floor even though you wish to look upon his face. 

“I would love to take your mouth over and over again, but there’s something else that I’m interested in,” 

He reaches a hand out to finger the buttons on your shirt. You gasp, but you don’t try to move. It is hard to contain the elation that you feel as he strips you partly of your layers of clothing and brings you closer. You can feel his erection pressing against your thigh as he attacks your neck. He keeps his promise from before and doesn’t bite you. Alternatively, he spreads warm kisses down your neck. His clement ministrations leave wine coloured marks in a trail leading to your collarbone. 

“Your body has been flirting with me ever since you came in here,” his breath comes out hot against your skin.

It was nice to know that you weren’t the only one who felt that way. The sexual chemistry between the two of you is undeniable. He guides you down onto the bed and hurriedly opens more of your blouse. You want to do the same but he forbade you from touching him. When he speaks again it appeals to your tastes.

“You can touch me now. Feel wherever you please. I’ll allow it.”

It was as if he was able to read your mind; and if that was true, he knew exactly what you wanted to do with him from the minute you saw him. Grateful for the opportunity your hands dip down and caress his sides. Palms glide against the glossy fabric of his clothes, feeling his thin waist and coming back up to rub his chest. Jonathan purrs and leans into your touch. You undo the buttons of his dress shirt and he helps you take it off. His skin was supple and without flaw. You stare in awe of how it looks in the moonlight. 

“You like this body, huh?” Jonathan hums. “I like yours even more. I think that I might have to take it for myself.”

You don’t have time to be concerned about that last comment because Jonathan was all over you again. He kisses from your collarbone down to your sternum, your stomach, then your hip bones. He moves further and further until he reaches the top of your pants. You shake with anticipation as Jonathan practically tears off your bottoms. He has no regard for your underwear eiter. Wherever they land is wherever they would stay. Now you were completely nude in a priest’s bed. You weren’t sure if you were a believer before this moment but that was irrelevant. Your body burns for him, spreads itself open all on its own. Your throat produces a needy whine that you never knew could belong to you. Nothing else was on your mind but letting this wondrous angel show you the light.

“Now listen to me closely. I want you to look at me while I gratify you. It would bring me great pleasure to have you watch yourself come apart,” near the end of the sentence his voice grows gritty and stern. 

You cry out when he leans down and flicks his tongue against your sex. You tilt your head back and close your eyes, which was against his orders. You’d already failed him and he wasn’t taking it kindly. He pauses his actions to speak once again.

“I said  _ look at me. _ ”

You shiver and bring your gaze back down to the man between your legs. He begins lapping at your sex again, using his tongue to make you moan his name. Every time he drags his wet tongue over your sensitive organ it sends hot pulses throughout your core. You struggle to stay still, squirming and twisting away from those serpentine licks. Jonathan pulls you closer and firmly holds your hips in place. The look in his eyes is that of a predator starved for ages. He’s making you his meal. 

The sensations are too much for you to handle all at once and there is no escape. You weren’t going to last. The hedonistic rolling of your hips against his makes the priest quicken. Just as you reach your peak he pulls away, leaving your entire body craving more. The lack of contact doesn’t remain permanent because soon he maneuvers you into a slightly different position. You’re on your back with legs parted so far that your knees are almost touching your chest. He looks down at you with a grin. 

“You look so beautiful,” he hums. “I can’t wait to be inside you,”

Those are probably the most genuine words out of his mouth that night. He makes quick work of preparing you with lubrication stored in the drawer of his bedside table. You couldn’t think of any other situation a priest would require lube for; you were not his first fuck by any chance. Skilled fingers ready your entrance for what was to come. Soon he removes his hand and begins to stroke himself. You are left waiting for him to fill you. 

Jonathan grants your wish as he guides his cock into your entrance, causing both of you to moan. His cock is thick and it stretches you more than his fingers. You appreciate how well he fills you up and how different it feels from having his prick in your mouth. He pushes into you until both of your hips are touching.

“You feel so good. Such a fine body. Nice and tight for me,” Jonathan groans. 

He begins thrusting at a steady pace. You look down at where your bodies are connected and you can see him piston in and out rhythmically. You moan and try to find something to hold onto. Your quivering hand reaches for the bedsheets and grip hard. The way Jonathan moves his hips makes you incapable of containing these overexaggerated responses. He’s well endowed and he knows how to use it. The slight curve of his cock allows for him to nudge that special place inside of you with every single motion.

You look up at the priest with sweat beading on his brow. He wears a salacious face, eyes half lidded and full of lust as he ravishes your body. He soaks up the scene of you on your back for him greedily. Occasionally he pulls out to tease you and then pushes all the way back in. This makes embarrassing noises come from you. Jonathan does this one more time before looking down at you and smirking.

Your body is trembling with the sensations the debauched priest is giving to you. Your breathing patterns are heavy, interrupted by loud moans and half hearted pleas for the man to go faster. Your begging fell onto deaf ears for the most part; however, you couldn’t blame him. You came into this church a dirty beggar and you did not have the authority to choose how you want this encounter to go. Jonathan was in charge and you were happy to take whatever he would give.

Your begs amuse him. “You’re supposed to be begging for my forgiveness. Have you forgotten?”

He tsks and pulls his cock out of your entrance, teasing you again by rubbing the tip up against your slick hole. You whimper pathetically, attempting to move your body closer so you could get it to slip back inside you again. You didn’t like the feeling of the sudden emptiness. Your shameless and desperate display makes Jonathan chuckle. 

“I was trying to be careful; I don’t want to ruin your stunning body. But I can’t take being this gentle anymore. I’m sure you won’t mind,”

And he slams into you. The way he is treating you now juxtaposes his previous gentleness. The merciless thrusts shake the mattress and cause your entire body to rock with the sheer force of it. You wrap your arms around the priest and hold on for dear life because the fast pounding doesn’t let up. He’s driving his cock deep into you, abusing your entrance. You call the name of the creator, who you have both forsaken in the act of fornication. 

The thrusts are hard enough to destroy you. Before this, you would have never thought that a man with such strange elegance and grace could be fucking you this brutally. He was a complete savage and you were loving every single second of it. Writhing in pleasure and moaning his name unabashedly. He pounds into you with reckless abandon.The carnality of this instance is a gift. 

“Jonathan, I’m so close,” you breathe out hurriedly. 

“Hold out for me. I want us to climax together,” he replies.

You wish that you could just let yourself spill over, but you didn’t want to disobey the man that was allowing you to indulge in the marvels of his love. Jonathan manages to keep pumping in and out of your entrance for several more minutes before his facade unwinds. He presses his chest against yours and his thrusts are rampant and sloppy. 

“I’m coming! Come for me, sweetheart,”

Your will to hold back crumples at those words and you both reached salvation.His moans are an angelic hymn. Magnum mysterium. As he comes inside you he leans forward for a hot and passionate kiss. The heat between the two of you is enough to melt the candles on the bedside table. He devours you entirely.

He finally pulls away and you are left a panting mess of sweat on a pile of ruined blankets. Waves of arousal from your orgasm lave against your still body. You don’t even notice as the priest slips out of bed and walks out of the room. Time comes to a complete standstill and you fall unconscious again. 

-

-

-

When you wake the morning light shines through the windows and luminates the room. What seemed scary the night before now looks mundane and familiar. Something much more peculiar was the fact that you were now fully clothed and there was some toast and coffee on the bedside table. You eat before leaving the room and calling for Father Jonathan. Instead of finding the priest you are met by an older woman; a part of the clergy. She tells you about how someone found you passed out at the altar and that your car was discovered not too far from the church either. This was not in your recollection of the night before. 

Furthermore, the clergywoman informs you that no one by the name of Jonathan had been in the church for years. It all starts to feel like a sick joke. All of those events seemed completely real to you. However there was a chance that everything you knew up until now was the product of some unconscious dream. You want him to be real, you want to insist to the woman that he was here so that you could show your gratitude for all that he did. But what could you tell her? If there was indeed a priest called Jonathan at this parish no one could know about the intimate moment the two of you shared in that room. 

So you mumble a quick ‘thank you’ to the woman before departing. They found your car and fixed it up for you free of charge. That meant you were able to leave the creepy church as soon as possible. 

You check yourself out in your car window mirror. It was the first time you were seeing your reflection since you left your house. You at least want to look half decent when you arrive at your relative’s. As you inspect your appearance you find dark hickies covering your neck. You wonder to yourself how the clergywoman wasn’t able to notice this detail.

Unable to wrap your head around the abnormality of the situation, you get into the car and drive off quickly after. Unbeknownst to you, the memory of that night fades the further you drive away from the church. But for at least one night, you were a believer.


End file.
